


Three's the Kind of Company that Sombra can get Behind

by Jrade



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Cooking, Developing Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Get ready for some beautiful sitcommy tropey stuff XD, Humor, Implied Sexual Content, Injury, Injury Treatment, Kissing, Missions Gone Wrong, Sarcasm, Teasing, Threats, Threats as a form of Flirtation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-12
Packaged: 2019-01-10 09:43:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12296538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jrade/pseuds/Jrade
Summary: Juggling two girlfriends can be pretty tough, but Sombra's sure she can handle it. Sure, one's a highly intelligent Indian Architech, and the other one's a very observant French Assassin, but nothing about her plan could possibly ever go wrong - it's perfect. So perfect....welllll....almostperfect…





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DrDre](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=DrDre).



> Birthday gift for Dr Dre (no not _that_ Dr Dre [I think? Maybe it is but probably not]). Anyway they don't have an Ao3 but they're cool so say Happy Birthday in the comments. (Also also I uh kinda am late a bit for the actual day but y'know close enough I think)

Sombra shook awake as the dropship hit a spot of turbulence. “Mah! What?”

Widowmaker, seated next to her, scoffed gently as she rolled her golden eyes. She nudged her shoulder, jostling Sombra’s jaw - the hacker had evidently slumped over in her sleep. “You drooled on me. I _will_ get my payback for that.”

Sombra rubbed at her eyes, frowning and trying to remember what she’d just been dreaming about. It had been something… something _great_ , she could remember that. Her heart was still racing from it, blood pumping - there was a grin on her lips already. She chuckled and turned that grin to the frigid sniper who she called “teammate” (or a whole bunch of other things, but never out loud).

“Oh come on, _araña,_ you know you think I’m cute.” She grinned widely, batting her eyelashes.

Widowmaker, in turn, simply frowned. _“Drool_ is never cute.”

Sombra’s eyes flew wide in feigned shock and she gasped, one hand flying to her mouth. “Then you _do_ think I’m cute! Just not when I’m drooling! I knew it!”

The sniper recoiled slightly, distaste clear across her face - but there seemed to be a flicker of something, deep in her eyes. “Of course not. Do not be stupid.” With that, she turned away and studied the window with intense interest.

Slowly, a grin found Sombra’s lips. Maybe she was still feeling a little fuzzy from just waking up. Maybe she had a lingering aftereffect of that dream in her mind, some tendril of her unconscious driving her hand. Whatever the reason, she was feeling just the right combination of bold and teasing. Just the right combination to lean forward and put her lips right beside Widowmaker’s ear.

She could feel the assassin tense up, and knew it was probably “dangerous” or whatever, but she hardly cared. “You know, if you just _asked me out_ , I’d say yes. Just saying, _chica._ Can’t run from it forever.”

Widowmaker pushed herself - raised her hands and set them against the wall and physically _pushed_ herself away, slowly, deliberately, and turned to face Sombra. Her face was a mask of offended shock, as if she couldn’t understand the gall required to say such a thing, and she stared into Sombra’s eyes.

For several seconds, she stayed frozen like that - unblinking, unbreathing, unmoving.

Just as Sombra was starting to get a little bit legitimately nervous about it, and considering aborting the whole joke, Widowmaker took a breath and closed her eyes. She pinched at the bridge of her nose, frowning, and sighed, “Sombra…”

Sombra’s grin grew a little wider. Her name sounded good in Widowmaker’s voice - soft but strong, like steel wrapped in velvet, and she _loved_ how the ‘r’ got trilled. It wasn’t right, not really, but it sounded _great_.

Widowmaker opened her eyes and Sombra couldn’t place the look in them. The hacker quirked an eyebrow. The assassin sighed, took another deep breath, and…

“Alright.”

Sombra’s eyes flew wide. “What.”

“Alright.” Widowmaker crossed her arms, nudging her chin out. “You are insistent. You are annoying. You are a frustration at the best of times and an outright liability at the worst. Yes, I accept your offer. Let us… _go out.”_

“What.” Sombra’s eyes widened even further, followed by a grin that swiftly overtook the gesture of shock and she broke out laughing. She cackled for a minute or two while Widowmaker just rolled her eyes and sighed.

“Wait, seriously? Fuckin’ _awesome_ , _chica!_ Okay but,” she cleared her throat, unable to wipe the grin from her lips, “I mean technically I was saying if _you_ asked _me_ out so that means I get to tell people that’s what happened-” Widowmaker’s eyes narrowed dangerously but Sombra continued speaking “-and I mean it’s a _little_ weird to call your new girlfriend all those names. Just saying, not exactly Primo Romeo level stuff, _Arañita._ But can I also say, at the same time, _hell yes!”_

She leapt up from her seat, punched the air, and threw her head back, purple-tipped hair bouncing as she cackled with glee. “I can’t believe that worked!”

Widowmaker returned her attention to the window with a slight frown. “Well… _bravo,_ you have succeeded.” A slow grin returned to her lips. “Now, we will see how you fare with me…”

Sombra’s laughter cut off abruptly. “Uh.” Widowmaker was a little notorious around Talon for being… well, _picky_ might be a polite term for it. The word “bitch” tended to be used a lot, but only in places where she really, _really_ couldn’t hear.

The assassin’s soft chuckle echoed gently off of the window in front of her as her grin widened, splitting to let her teeth reflect in the glass as the reflections of her eyes met Sombra’s gaze. “Worried, suddenly? Not very _Primo Romeo_ of you, is it?”

“Ha! Pfft!” Sombra shrugged, feigning mild offence at the implication. “Please, I go on dates all the time. Prepare to get charmed off of your feet.”

A soft hum came from Widowmaker’s nose - thoughtful, almost, as she tipped her head to the side. “Yes, I am sure you are quite used to dating French debutantes, who could remove an almond from between your teeth at eight hundred yards.”

Sombra gulped. “Well… _yeah._ I mean, obviously I am.”

“And of course,” Widowmaker continued with an easy shrug, “you would be prepared to cook for me. After all,” her sharp grin returned, “I _was_ the one to ask _you_ out. It is only fair, then, for you to provide the date.”

“...I suppose that _would_ be fair,” Sombra chuckled, tugging at the cowl of her jacket. “Damn it’s hot in here - I’m gonna go tell Gabe to turn down the heat.”

Widowmaker spun around and caught her wrist, tugging her back, off-balance, and right into her lap. “Nonsense,” she purred into Sombra’s ear, stroking fingernails up one arm. “Stay here, with me. Your new _girlfriend._ No reason to be nervous around me, _non?”_ She leaned in a little closer, chilled lips just barely brushing the tip of Sombra’s ear, and when she spoke her voice was inhumanly soft. “It is not yet too late to back out. Admit… _defeat.”_

Sombra would never admit to the shiver that rolled down her spine at the whole exchange. Of course, she wouldn’t _need_ to admit it - Widowmaker definitely felt it by virtue of their contact, but that didn’t mean she needed to admit to it. “What? You kidding me, _Arañita?_ No no, I’m in this for the long haul, obviously.”

She swallowed heavily at the insidious chuckle which sounded in her ear - almost right inside her head, it felt like. She _kind of_ loved it, though: the way Widowmaker’s voice just went straight to her spine.

“Then, it is a date. After this mission, we will return to my house. You will cook.”

Sombra nodded thoughtlessly. “I’ll even make breakfast.” Her eyes widened as she heard her own words, but it was too late to take them back now - she just had to go with it. Like this _whole_ date thing.

It wasn’t that she _didn’t_ want to, exactly, she just hadn’t dreamed in a million years it would _happen._ Widowmaker was, first of all, kind of an epitomal Ice Queen. Secondly, she was probably - if Sombra was being totally, brutally honest with herself - a little bit out of her league. Like maybe… the moon. About _that_ far.

...and now she’d just made a crack about making breakfast. However, saying something stupid on the spur of the moment had got her the date to start with - even if she was ninety percent sure that had only happened in an effort to humiliate her into backing down. She might as well keep riding the ‘say something stupid and run with it’ train.

“No witty comeback to that one?” Sombra grinned, turning to face Widowmaker with a raised eyebrow. “Nothing about _juevos_ on french toast, or reminding me not to use the good champagne for my morning mimosa?” She chuckled.

“If you expect me to drink one of those monstrosities,” Widowmaker grimaced, “you will find yourself to be sorely mistaken.”

“Aww!” Sombra pouted. “Come on, _babe,_ j-”

She didn’t get an opportunity to say anything else, because Widowmaker had tossed her onto the floor with a huff. “That is a _terrible_ pet name. A far better choice would be something like-”

Widowmaker stopped speaking abruptly, and Sombra frowned, pushing herself up from the floor. “Geeze, _chica,_ I don’t know how they date in _France_ but from what the kissing has led me to believe? You’re doing it wrong. Now seriously, we g-”

A throat was cleared behind her and she flinched a little, slowly turning around. “Heyyyyyy Gabe, _amigo!_ We were just uh, talking about you!”

“We were not,” Widowmaker provided from the side.

“Yeah we were,” Sombra insisted, “Widow’s just being sheepish about it because she was saying she thinks you’re cu- OW Ahahahaha!” She grabbed at the back of her head where a hand had slapped her, _hard,_ but by the time she turned around Widowmaker was sitting with her arms crossed and a studied look of disinterest on her face again.

“Whatever.” Reaper grumbled, shaking his head with a sigh. “I don’t care what you two do on your free time. Just try to leave each other in mostly one piece.” He leaned over to peek past Sombra’s shoulder to Widowmaker. “No killing her, and leave her at least one hand, alright? Everything else is surplus.”

Sombra gasped, a hand flying to her chest. “What! I’m outraged at that, _amigo!_ How would you feel if I said the only important parts of you were your shotguns and whatever bits you use to sigh in disappointment, huh?”

Reaper sighed in disappointment and turned around, heading back into the cockpit. “Sure. DZ in two minutes. Be ready when the doors open, or I’ll kick you out ready or not.”

 

\---

 

Two minutes later, the door hung open and Widowmaker hung out of it, anchored with her grappling line just in case. The ship swayed in the wind, but she countered easily, shifting and swaying to keep the barrel of the Widow’s Kiss perfectly still.

“Stop staring.”

Sombra balked at first and looked away, then grinned and looked back again. “Hey, we’re dating now! I’m allowed to stare.”

“If you are going to be an entitled pig about it, perhaps I will date somebody else,” Widowmaker scoffed. “Maybe _Gabe._ ” She smirked knowingly. “Given that he is apparently so _cute.”_

Sombra laughed, looking away to hide her slight blush. “Pfft, I knew you thought so. Geeze _chica_ like - is there _anybody_ on this team you don’t wanna hook up with?”

“You.”

She gasped. “What! You don’t wanna go out with your own girlfriend? Before we’ve even had _one_ date? I’m shocked, _Arañita,_ shocked and outraged and I don’t know if I’ll be able to continue with the mission in this state of emotional distress.” Sombra pulled her knees up to her chest and crossed her arms overtop of them, forcing a pout over lips that wanted to pull into a grin. She was having too much fun with this, maybe, but that just meant it was a good idea.

“Sombra?”

The hacker looked over with a raised eyebrow. “What’s up, _amiga?”_

Widowmaker took her eye off of the scope, looking down with a thoughtful frown. “Will your Translocator beacon have reached the ground by now?”

Sombra shrugged. “Yeah, probably. I mean, I was gonna give it another few seconds just in ca-AAAAAAAAAAAH!” Her words gave way abruptly to a shriek as Widowmaker reached out a boot and pushed her out of the dropship. Instinctively, she activated her Translocator and teleported in an instant safely down the the ground.

“THAT WAS RUDE!” She shouted over her comm unit, glaring up to the dropship above. She felt like she could practically _hear_ Widowmaker’s grin over the quiet radio line, even over the hammering sound of her own heart in her ears. “I was in the _middle_ of a sentence! And- AND! I said _probably!_ _PROBABLY, chica!_ You don’t even listen to me!” She slapped a hand to her chest. “Your own girlfriend!”

“We broke up,” came the reply over the radio. “Remember? It was just before I kicked out out of the dropship.”

Muttering under her breath as light laughter filtered over the line, Sombra pulled her machine pistol out of its holster. “Show _you_ a break-up… break up your whole _face_ that’s what I’m gonna do… break the smirk right off of those hot lips…”

“Sombra.” Reaper’s voice _sounded_ like a disappointed shake of the head. “You know you’re on open mic, right?”

“I KNOW!” She snapped, grabbing at her own hair with wide eyes. _Why the fuck am I- what is happening? This is a nightmare!_ “It’s just a joke _amigo,_ geeze - like all those times you said you hate me.”

“Those weren’t jokes.”

Sombra laughed. “Ha, yeah you’re still hilarious _amigo!_ Anyway, hey, I’ll call you back in a minute, okay? I got a thing to do, but let’s keep in touch. We should get a pizza some time. Squad pizza night or something.”

Reaper started to sigh, but Sombra snapped her fingers with a grin, cutting off the radio. “Okay,” she spoke aloud to herself, “got that under control. Cool as a cucumber with shades on - you got this, Sombra. You got this.”

 

\---

 

“I DON’T GOT THIS!” Sombra leapt off of a rooftop, ducking to try to avoid a hail of bullets. _“CHICA get your hot ass down here! Gabe! Get off your hot ass and help me out alright?!?”_

“We’ve been-” there was a sound of an explosion and loud French swearing in the background, momentarily blotting out Reaper’s voice. “We’ve been engaged! Leading them off - we can give you one strafing run, Sombra. Make the most of it.”

“I love you!” She called out gleefully, grabbing onto a pipe and swinging around a corner. “You’re my favourite crazy edgelord in the whole world!”

“Why the fuck-” he grunted as another explosion sounded across the radio. Sombra heard it a second later in real life - coming from in front of her now, perfect. “Why the fuck do you use language from seventy years ago? My _dad_ used to say shit like that!”

Sombra cackled. “Hey if you wanna call me daddy, Gabe, you go right ahead!”

Behind her, a couple dozen guards were giving chase with assault rifles drawn and blaring. Pulse-lasers flashed across the dark night sky, and as Sombra sprinted toward the edge of a rooftop - with nothing but space in sight in front of her - she had a moment to reflect on how exactly the night got to this point.

It was all going to be so simple. Infiltrate the facility. Squelch the alarms. Knock out some guards. Maybe a little bit of light murder, but she was mostly planning on leaving that up to Widowmaker from up above. Ice Queen or not, that _chica_ could sure make a shot - she’d almost ruined everything at Volskaya.

Much like Volskaya, everything had been going perfectly. Much like Volskaya, everything went wrong when an alarm started to sound. _Un_ like Volskaya, however, Sombra had _not_ set off _this_ alarm.

That had been the start of it. Eight of the most harrowing, intense, and satisfying minutes of her life.

She hadn’t even had the target in hand when the guards had burst out, along with turrets from the ceiling - from the _ceilings!_ Sombra had giggled at that, and spun them right around to fire on the guards instead. Sadly, for some reason, these were _stun_ turrets or something and the guards’ armour seemed to make them immune. They blew up the machines and gave chase, with pulse rifles that were decidedly _not_ set to stun.

Sombra had reached deep into her bag of tricks to get around them to the target - and she’d snatched it. Unfortunately, while her camouflage was _good_ , it wasn’t _perfect_ , and one of their systems had managed to tag her.

More running, more chasing, more than a few bullets on each side. Sombra had ended up out on the rooftops, sprinting through the night. And now, her air support had been compromised and was needing to bug out.

She could see them up ahead, the dark Talon gunship blending in against the night sky - behind it, a half-dozen smaller craft, probably drones, gave chase and fired pulse lasers or missiles.

As the twin gatling cannons on the ship started to  spin up, Sombra couldn’t help but grin. She leapt off into empty space and flung her Translocator beacon overhand like an MLB pro. It was _perfect._

Except for those damn drones.

A missile from one rocked the Talon ship to the side, and the Translocator beacon - instead of flying right into the open door - missed entirely.

“Uh. Fuck?” Sombra frowned a little as she watched the beacon soar clear. Below her, nothing but space. For about sixty feet. She wasn’t worried about the space, really - but _below_ it was some pavement, and that kinda worried her.

She just had to hope that that feather and hammer bullshit only worked on the moon.

She spread her arms wide, facing the ground, and _that_ didn’t help at all - but she had to admit, it _was_ pretty exciting. Most exciting seconds of her life, maybe, flying facefirst toward the ground as if to be a pancake in a moment’s time.

Sombra waited as long as she could stomach before hitting the Translocator. Waited right up until she swore she could _feel_ the pavement approaching.

With any luck, the beacon had already hit the ground. If not? Well, at least it would be _less_ of a fall.

She popped out on a rooftop, grabbed at herself randomly, and then laughed. She kissed her hand and blew it to the sky, sinking to her knees as the Talon ship streaked around in a loop and flew off.

“Sombra. Regroup at point Alpha. We’re hit and losing engine power, need to ditch it. We’ll find another way back home.”

“Oh I’m gonna hook us up with something _fancy_ after that, _amigo!_ Don’t you worry your pretty little head over it!”

Reaper sighed as Sombra laughed. “Whatever. Just regroup at Alpha.”

Sombra giggled, kicking the now-spent Translocator beacon off the edge of the second-story roof she was now standing on. She stepped over to the edge and dropped, catching the ledge before pushing off and letting herself fall all the way - as long as you knew how to roll, it wasn’t hard to make a drop like that. Not at all.

Of course, that was presuming you didn’t land with your foot on a discarded bottle and roll your ankle with all the force of your fall. Something which Sombra in fact _did_ do. She followed it up by falling to her knees and swearing loudly. _“HIJO DE PUTA!”_

Somebody gasped and Sombra rolled over to see a pair of eyes tucked behind a dumpster. Damn if they weren’t pretty eyes, though. “Hey there,” she waved from the ground, wincing. “Ah, shit - I uh, don’t suppose you have anything to help with pain, huh? Tylenol? Morphine? Flask full of Jack? Maybe mix numbers one and three?”

The person stood slowly, stepping out from the shadows with clear hesitation - those gold eyes flicked around, not exactly nervously, but with a rapid sort of studiousness. They were behind a visor of some sort, blue, and the rest of her outfit was, well… Sombra was impressed. And staring.

Tall, leggy, dark-skinned, muscular, lithe, leggy, beautiful, dressed like some kind of dancer, _leggy_ , a prosthetic arm to die for, a look of careful deliberation on her face, and _leggy._ Sombra was in love instantly.

“Hey there,” she repeated from the ground with a grin, offering a hand. “Sombra. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

The woman stepped closer, not offering her hand. “Sombra. You are not an employee of the Haversham Foundation. Am I to take it, then, from your…” she glanced down, disdainfully - her voice matched everything else about her perfectly. _“Situation_ , then, that you are the thief who tripped the alarm?”

“I take offence to that!” Sombra objected, pulling her hand back to place it on her hip, underlining her offence. “I didn’t trip any alarm. I sent the whole system into a level-four maintenance phase in order to avoid any possible mistakes like that. What’s that face?” She gestured up to the other woman. “What’s the face you’re making? Also, you still haven’t told me your name, thanks.”

The woman sighed slowly. “A maintenance phase. Unexpected. Normally, the route I used would have been unmonitored. Do you know what the level four phase entails?”

 _“Yes,”_ Sombra groaned, rolling her eyes. A pain in her leg and also a little bit of a pain in her ass - but at least _one_ of the two was hot, so it was forgivable. “It’s a building-wide check for rodents or pests, all resources devoted to the ventilation system. Cameras and turrets and motion sensors are shut down to spare the power and computation framework to scan for lifesigns in the ventilation.” She snickered. “Some dumbass in finance probably figured they could save a couple grand by going for smaller generators and a lighter-weight mainframe. I always like slipping through loopholes like that. Still waiting on that name, gorgeous.”

“Yes, lifesigns in the ventilation system,” the woman frowned. “Normally, I would have been able to sneak through the same unnoticed. Unluckily, I had to encounter you.”

Sombra laughed. “Hey, that’s kinda rude! After all, _chica - I_ wasn’t the one to set the alarm off!” She shrugged, her shoulder pressing back against the pavement as she cradled her injured ankle. “I mean, I mighta set the alarm _on_ , but hey, I didn’t set it off.”

There was silence for a few moments as the woman crossed her arms and simply shook her head. After a while, Sombra rolled her eyes. “If I _apologize_ , will you offer me a hand and give me your name?”

She considered for a moment. “Acceptable.”

“Promise,” Sombra warned, eyebrows high.

Frowning slightly, the woman nodded. “I promise.”

Sombra’s purple lips split into a wide, devious grin. “Alright then. I am deeply, deeply sorry, _chica,”_ she patted at her chest, “I am so deeply sorry… that you got caught. There, I apologized - now help me up, little miss….?” She held out a hand, her fingernails gleaming in the streetlamp’s light as much as her teeth did.

With a frustrated sigh, the woman pulled her to her feet. “You may call me Symmetra. That was an unfair interpretation of your proposition.”

“Yes,” Sombra snickered, “yes it was, thank you - but it was a legitimate one! I apologized! I appreciate you holding up your end of the deal, _amiga._ I hate welchers. Now, listen, it’s been a blast - hey,” she cut off, frowning thoughtfully for a second. “You single?”

Symmetra frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“I’m asking you out. On a date. Fuck it, I don’t even care if you’re single - my number’s in your phone,” she grinned and winked, “it’s under the contact _Hot Alley Chica_ , I’m sure that won’t raise any eyebrows if you _do_ have a boyfriend or a girlfriend or whatever. Anyway, this has been great - we should do it again some time, but without the alleyway, the injuries, or uh… y’know, most of the rest of it. See ya later, Symmetra.”

Then, she hit her camouflage with a chuckle and knelt down to the ground. Symmetra swiped out an arm through empty space and stepped back slightly, shaking her head.

“What an odd woman,” she muttered to herself, then chuckled as if it was a joke of some sort. She pulled out her phone and then frowned at it, immediately beginning to tap.

Sombra grinned at that. As soon as Symmetra cleared out, she’d be able to hobble her way back to point Alpha. It would be something, at least - she might take a while, and technically it would’ve been faster to get a helping hand. That wasn’t happening, though.

After all, she had a reputation as a badass to uphold.

 

\---

 

Sombra whimpered pathetically as she hobbled along a deserted sidewalk. Sure, she had a reputation as a badass to uphold, but there was nobody here.

She heard a familiar derisive chuckle. “Ah, _cherie,_ you look so… _miserable.”_ The word sounded so delighted, _Widowmaker_ sounded so delighted through the radio.

Sombra sighed. “Yeah, so I hurt my ankle, whatever. Not my fault we don’t have any field medics. What’s the deal with that, anyway? Those other _pendejos_ have got like four of ‘em.”

There was a noise beside her as Widowmaker dropped down to the sidewalk, instantly linking her arm through Sombra’s. At first the hacker tried to pull away, but Widowmaker’s grip was tight and Sombra soon found herself leaning over - and being quite grateful for the relief it afforded her.

“If you want a medic so badly, why not ask Doomfist?” Widowmaker smirked, glancing over to meet Sombra’s eyes as the hacker groaned.

“Are you kidding me? He’d just go on some ‘survival of the fittest’ rant for like an hour. I swear it’s like mentioning traitors around Gabe.”

“I heard that. Traitor.”

 _“Son_ of a _bitch!”_ Sombra whirled toward the alleyway that he stepped out of, only staying on her feet thanks to Widowmaker’s arm holding her. “Fuckin’ _scared_ me, _amigo._ Geeze.”

Reaper chuckled. “Yeah, well, you deserve it. Now…” he held out a clawed gauntlet.

Sombra chuckled and tugged the package out of her pocket - a phial of fluid the size of her thumb - and set it in his palm. His armoured fingers curled around it and it disappeared into the depths of his cloak.

“Excellent. Job well done.” There was an explosion in the distance that drew Sombra’s eyes up, but Reaper didn’t react. “Maybe we lost a dropship. Hardly matters. Mission success - now, Sombra, get us a replacement, would you?” He leaned in, mask not moving of course but still somehow giving the impression of a cruel grin. “Something… _fancy.”_

“Oh I’ll give you fancy,” she muttered under her breath as Widowmaker laughed and held her up.

 

\---

 

Their ride arrived ten minutes later - Sombra had hacked into its systems over the net, and couldn’t suppress a snicker as it flew down and floated a few inches away from the curb.

“I am _not_ getting into _that,”_ Widowmaker grimaced.

Reaper shook his head and stepped forward with a sigh. “Yes, you are. Pay her back in the sparring ring. Just remember, Medical are a bunch of idiots so don’t mess her up too bad.” He paused at the door into the ship, looking back thoughtfully. “Although, if you broke her jaw, she might need to avoid talking for a few days while it healed. Just saying.”

“Yeah, and maybe if I broke your nose, I wouldn’t have to listen to you sighing all the time,” Sombra replied easily with a shrug and a grin.

“Trust me,” Reaper muttered as he stepped into the ship. “I can sigh with a broken nose.”

Sombra rolled her eyes and chuckled, and then turned her grin to Widowmaker who still stared in horror at the ship. “What’s the matter, _amiga?_ Don’t wanna go home? Thinking of setting up camp here instead?”

“I am _not_ getting into that,” the assassin repeated, shaking her head.

With a chuckle, Sombra looked back to the ship she’d called in. It really _was_ a thing of beauty - an Oscar Meyer Weiners skytruck, shaped like a giant cartoonesque hot dog nestled snugly in a bun, complete with ketchup, relish, and mustard. “Yeah, I know, it’s terrible, right?” Sombra grinned. “Mustard. Who the fuck puts _mustard_ on a hot dog? Animals, that’s who.”

Widowmaker only groaned as she walked onto the ship, supporting Sombra by her arm. Though the hacker didn’t mention it, it was really good to have someone to lean on - literally and metaphorically. Without their cover in the dropship earlier, that situation would’ve been a whole lot hairier, and without Widow’s arm now?

Well, she’d walked all the way here without a shoulder to lean on. She knew exactly what it meant to have that now.

Didn’t mean she needed to admit to it… but it was nice.

 

\---

 

When they touched down at the Talon base, Doomfist was waiting with his arms crossed and a truly _massive_ grin on his face. His dark eyes practically sparkled as he watched a giant metal hot dog come to rest on the grass, and Sombra couldn’t help but snicker as she looked out of the window at him.

Reaper groaned as he hit the button to open the door. “I’m never hearing the end of this.” Then, he chuckled with a shrug and glanced over to Sombra. “Which conveniently means _you’re_ never hearing the end of this.”

“Worth every penny, _chico,”_ Sombra shot back.

Doomfist started to laugh as Reaper walked down the short ramp, and Sombra leaned out of the door to overhear their conversation. A couple of cybernetic implants helped, of course.

“Reaper! Interesting choice of transport. Not compensating for anything, I trust?” Doomfist grinned - not his intimidating grin, but the one which seemed almost too wide for his face.

“Yeah, wouldn’t _you_ like to find out?” Reaper retorted, reaching into his robe and producing the phial they’d stolen.

“Sombra-”

“Shut up _chica_ can’t you see I’m eavesdropping?” Sombra smirked, then turned to face Widowmaker with a roll of her eyes. As expected, the frosty frenchwoman was standing there with her arms crossed. “Aww, you know I can’t stay mad at you. What’s up, _amiga?”_

Widowmaker sighed and shook her head. “Just take me home.”

With a laugh, Sombra waved a hand which glowed in purple light. “No problemo, _Arañita!”_ The door closed up and the shift started to lift off, and Widowmaker slowly raised an eyebrow.

“Hmm.” She frowned just slightly, eyes narrowing. “Would you not need co-ordinates? An address, at least?”

“Wh-what?” Sombra laughed forcedly. “I mean, yeah, obviously! I don’t know where you live or anything.”

“I’m sure,” Widowmaker responded wryly, wrinkling her nose. “It smells like hot dogs in here. I hate it.”

Sombra snickered as the ship sped away. “Yeah, it’s pretty awful. I love it.”

Widowmaker’s head barely shook, the tiniest indication of disbelief, but she didn’t speak - she just grabbed Sombra’s elbow and escorted her over to the seats for the flight.

 

\---

 

The absurd flying machine hummed low over the lake’s surface, the repulsion field instilling bizarre whorls and ripples in the water below which distorted the moonlight’s reflection. _Chateau Guillard_ rose out of the centre of the lake, and Sombra couldn’t hold back her own grin at the sight of it.

It was just such a perfect metaphor, a stone mansion in the middle of a lake that nobody could get to. Beautiful, sure, but only from a distance. Sombra had a deep appreciation for that sort of thing.

The hovering hotdog came in close and floated beside one of the landings. Widowmaker went to the door and hit the button as Sombra leaned easily against the wall there.

“Yeah, well, good mission or whatever, _chica._ Enjoy drinking wine alone in your haunted mansion!”

Widowmaker let out a single laugh which shot out across the emptiness of the lake. “I will not.” Her hand gripped tightly at Sombra’s wrist and one of her dark eyebrows arched high. “After all, I know plenty of treating ankle injuries. Besides which,” she grinned, “we have our _date_.”

Sombra snickered easily, refusing to reveal her deeper anxiety as she followed Widowmaker along. Not like she had a choice in the matter - she might’ve been pretty slim, but _chica_ was _strong._ “Heh, well, I mean, obviously, yeah. Our date. That was - I mean, _obviously_ that was all real and not a joke.”

“Nervous?” Widowmaker grinned, her teeth glinting like the lake’s little cold waves in the light from the windows and the moon.

“No,” Sombra lied. “Not at all. This kinda shit happens to me all the time!”

 _In my dreams, maybe._ She swallowed heavily as Widowmaker opened a door and led her inside. _Or maybe my nightmares…_

Only the future would tell which.


	2. Diving Into the Deep End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything's fine, everything's totally fine. Most of Sombra's days end with her on a castle in the middle of a lake, alone with a dangerous assassin and a wounded ankle. It's all totally fine.
> 
> Or at least, it would be, if Widowmaker had the right spices. It's hard to make tacos with nothing but oregano - on top of which, if the two can't put aside their difference, the date might be a total disaster.
> 
> ...but disasters can still be fun...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gets a little heated toward the end so maybe don't read it out loud on the bus. Or, y'know, do - all those grandmas need some entertainment, y'know? :D

 

 

It was an odd house. Had a bit of an indoor-outdoors thing going on for half of it - the patios running seamlessly through some of the halls - but there were proper indoors sections as well. A few stories of them, actually.

The paintings that were open to the elements were particularly weird, but Sombra wasn’t exactly an art buff so she didn’t mention it.

“Before this goes any further, there is one question I must ask.” Widowmaker still held her arm close, supporting Sombra to keep the weight off of her injured ankle. She shot over an indecipherable look. “You must answer it truthfully.”

“Of course!” Sombra chuckled.

Widowmaker’s eyes narrowed and she stopped on the stairway. “If I find out you lied to me, I will kill you the next time I see you. I will twist your little neck until it snaps.”

“Of… course!” Sombra chuckled, a lot less certainly.

Widowmaker leaned in close, golden eyes piercingly intense and narrowed to thin slits. She lingered there long enough to get Sombra’s heart slamming in panic into the backside of her ribs, slowly building terror over what this question would be. 

“Do you…  _ actually _ know how to cook?”

Sombra rolled her eyes with a groan (of relief). “For fu- you’re kidding me!  _ That’s _ the question? One time guaranteeing I’m gonna tell you the truth, and  _ that’s _ what you ask? Yeah, I can cook great. You’ll probably hate it, but whatever, not everybody can be right all the time.”

Widowmaker huffed and continued up the stairs, leading Sombra to a red velvet settee and pushing her down into it. She whirled away and pressed at a button on the wall; a fire sprung up in the hearth there, warm and bright, and Widowmaker strode away.

Her armoured boots clicked against the polished stone floor, and Sombra couldn’t take her eyes off the sway of those hips. “Do not move,” Widowmaker called out without turning her head, “and you are staring again.”

“We’re literally  _ on a date!” _ Sombra complained. “When  _ will _ I be allowed to stare at you, huh?”

Widowmaker laughed, the sound carrying back over her shoulder. “I never said you were not allowed. Only that it was happening.”

Sombra frowned a little as the assassin stepped out of the room. “The fuck does  _ that _ mean?” She muttered to herself, shaking her head and rubbing her hands together before holding them out to the fire’s warmth. “What’s even happening tonight?”

It had been a lot, but Sombra always had liked running and juggling so she didn’t mind too much. She  _ didn’t _ like as much feeling like she was swept off of her feet - but she didn’t need to admit that that was kind of the way Widowmaker made her feel. Just a little bit.

Leaning on her shoulder was pretty good, though.

Her eyes drifted around the room, taking in the paintings and portraits - landscapes, old paintings, and newer ones as well. One of Widowmaker - or rather, Sombra reminded herself, of Amélie, standing next to a pretty charming-looking man. Gérard, presumably.

It _kind_ _of_ seemed like he was looking at her, but she didn’t really know what his expression meant. It was just a painting, obviously, but still. She shot the painting a little thumbs-up. “You got a hot wife, _chico._ Well done.”

The other paintings were far less interesting; the standard sort of fare. Landscapes and other scenes, mountains - the lake with the Chateau rising up out of it. That one seemed almost funny to Sombra. A painting of a house  _ inside _ that very house.

“Here,” Widowmaker murmured softly as she came back into the room. No boots clicked on the floor now. “I will wrap your ankle - lay back.”

Sombra did a double-take as she looked over - Widowmaker had changed clothes, somehow, despite the very brief interlude, and was now in what appeared to be a black silk robe that went all the way down to her ankles. No shoes, either.

Sombra gto too distracted looking at her, and forgot to lie down.

With a sigh, Widowmaker pushed on her shoulder and inclined her back on the settee, taking a seat next to her and pulling Sombra’s foot into her lap. “You cannot be trusted to not injure yourself on a mission, you cannot even be trusted to follow simple commands to deal with that injury. You are truly hopeless.”

“Hey, maybe I was just distracted thinking about our date,” Sombra quipped with a grin that wavered as Widowmaker’s fingers encircled her ankle. She hissed a little - the cold felt good, but the touch really didn’t.

It wasn’t too bad, though, as Widowmaker loosened and removed her shoe. It was clear that she’d done this before. “Stop squirming.”

“Oh yeah, I’ll just stop hurting, thanks. Good advice.” Sombra rolled her eyes, and Widowmaker returned it right back at her, but Sombra couldn’t take her eyes off of the frown on those dark lips. “Hey,  _ Arañita?  _ I answered a question, so you owe me one too.”

“That is the most annoying way you could possibly have suggested that.” Widowmaker shook her head with a soft sigh, pulling a tension bandage out of one of the robe’s deep pockets and holding the end in place against Sombra’s foot with a thumb. “However, I suppose I should expect no less from you than annoyance. Fine, go ahead.”

Sombra stifled a grunt as the bandage wrapped around her ankle. The injury was worse than she’d originally thought, and she hadn’t helped it by walking a few blocks, either. “It- ah- I mean it’s probably stupid. Probably a dumb question.”

“Doubtlessly,” Widowmaker interjected with a smirk, eyes and hands still devoted to her task.

“Yeah, thanks,” Sombra rolled her eyes. “But I was just… I mean, I was kinda wondering… why I’m here? I mean, it’s cool and all, but… you know.”

“How else could we have our date?” Widowmaker’s smirk grew a little more, that same easy grin, and Sombra pointed a finger.

“That, that right there - that’s exactly it though. The date. I mean, I know I’m hot - obviously - and I know you’ve been interested in me since forever -  _ obviously _ \- but… I dunno, why  _ now _ , I guess?”

Widowmaker chuckled softly, shaking her head but still not looking away from the wrappings. “That is what you choose to ask me? One time you could guarantee my truth, and  _ that _ is what you wish to know?” 

Sombra shrugged. “Yeah.”

The assassin quirked an eyebrow. “Have you never heard of the thrill of the chase, hmm? You would cut out all of that?”

Sombra just shrugged again, though, with a little nod. She  _ did _ like chases, and she liked screwing around with her friends. There was a big difference, though, between screwing  _ around _ and screwing  _ over _ \- and she wasn’t going to do the second one. “I mean, it’s not a huge deal or anything, right?”

_ Is it? _

A little bit of nervousness took hold in Sombra’s chest as Widowmaker sighed, her face slowly slipping back to blank again, and then to a slight frown.

“Of course it is not. Many people look at me. Many people make their crude comments. I appreciate the sounds of their noses breaking,” Sombra chuckled at Widowmaker’s words and the assassin joined in with a soft giggle of her own, then her eyes flicked to meet Sombra’s just for an instant. “You are the first, however, to ask me out. The first in...”

She never finished the sentence, just trailed off into a frown and a shake of her head.

Sombra blinked a few times at that, glad that Widowmaker had immediately looked back to her ankle and didn’t have a chance to see the expression on her face. She’d been hoping for something she could make a joke out of, but it felt kind of wrong to joke about  _ that, _ the way she’d just said it.

It was pretty sad, actually. She didn’t come here for that kind of sentimental stuff, it was… well, it was kind of uncomfortable. With that in mind, a joke was  _ obviously _ the way forward.

Just a different joke. One at her own expense instead.

“Okay that’s cute,” Sombra held out a hand with two fingers up, “but there’s just two little problems with it. First of all, I didn’t ask you out, you asked  _ me _ out, remember?”

Widowmaker met her eyes with a narrow, openly hostile glare, silent and still for a few seconds before an eyebrow slowly raised. “...and the second?”

Sombra faked a look of stunned surprise, as if all thoughts had been chased from her head in either fear or arousal. She didn’t need to try very hard to fake it, either. “Uh. Second?”

Widowmaker laughed, shaking her head, and that was better. Sombra liked that a lot more. “Foolish thing.” She shook her head slightly, studying Sombra through narrowed lids. “Do not think I do not know what you are doing.”

Before Sombra could say anything, though, Widowmaker was gesturing outward. “Go now, test your ankle. I will lead you to the kitchens for your cooking. How many courses do you plan on? This is a first date, do recall, so plan appropriately.”

With a chuckle and a little bit of light regret at the loss of contact, Sombra pulled her foot out of Widowmaker’s lap and gingerly set it on the ground. “Oh, I’m thinking at least a dozen courses. Or at least a dozen tacos - you’ve got the stuff for tacos, right? Who am I kidding, of course you have the stuff for tacos, I mean you’d have to be-” she cut off as she pushed her foot into the ground and was astonished at how little it hurt.

There was a dull constant throbbing, but it didn’t really increase or worsen when she put weight on it. The wrappings did an excellent job of mitigating the strain. Sombra laughed. “Wow,  _ chica, _ that feels great!”

Widowmaker stood with a shrug. “I became well-practiced at that when I was a dancer. The skill is useful. Come.” She gestured and started to walk again, leaving Sombra to somewhat scramble and grab her discarded shoe - but Widowmaker didn’t leave her too far behind. She hung around fairly close and didn’t make Sombra run in order to close the gap.

 

\---

 

“Okay but,” Sombra cleared her throat as she grabbed down a hanging pan. She’d already mixed up some tortillas and had them baking in the oven, now it was time for the rest of it. She still could barely believe that Widowmaker hadn’t just  _ had _ tortillas already available. “I gotta know, is this like… a  _ real _ date? ‘Cause if it is I’m obviously going to do stuff differently.”

Widowmaker hummed a chuckle through her nose, sitting cross-legged on a stool and studying her fingernails. “If you wished to know, you should have asked earlier.”

“...what if I trade you another answer for it?” Sombra turned the heat up on the stovetop and then went to search through the spice cupboard.

Widowmaker didn’t even spend a moment considering - she laughed immediately. “What else would I wish to know, hmm? You are so easy to see through. The truth is written clearly across your face, etched into your voice, your every motion.”

Sombra rolled her eyes. “Oh  _ sure _ it is. C’mon  _ Arañita _ I’ve been playing at this game a long time - I got my bluffs, and my double-bluffs, and my triple-bluffs. I’ve got lies so deep even  _ I _ don’t know the truth anymore.”

“Hmm, you think so?”

“I  _ know _ so,  _ chica. _ Sure, you know some about me, but you think you know everything? Ha, yeah right!” She stepped on a stool and stretched up onto her toes to look into the depths of the cupboard.  _ What the hell? This is stupid! Where’s the cumin? Where’s the- why the hell is- _ Sombra groaned and rolled her eyes.  _ Right. French. Wouldn’t know spices if they bit them in the ass. _

She heard  _ something _ , vaguely, through her concentration, but it wasn’t until she  _ felt _ something that she realized what it had been: the sound of Widowmaker standing from her stool and padding softly over.

“I know you, yes, Sombra,” the assassin murmured softly over her shoulder, definitely standing closer than she needed to. Sombra was effectively pinned against the cupboard - but her real complaint in the matter was that she was pinned  _ the wrong way around _ , facing the wood. Not like she could do anything about it, though.

“The flippant remarks, yet you still are so desperate for a friend - Gabriel thinks it is manipulation. Thinks you call him friend to win his favour, to endear yourself to him…”

Sombra frowned a little, the thought killing some of her general enjoyment of the current situation. “Gabe said that?”

Widowmaker laughed, lightly, right in her ear, and any thoughts of anyone else slid right from her head. “No, not in so many words, but he thinks it. He is wrong, though, no - you do not say those words emptily but  _ desperately _ . I can see through you so easily, Sombra; you think I have not seen your eyes on me, hmm?”

The assassin chuckled, and Sombra’s eyes slid closed as she stifled a groan. She wasn’t even sure whether this was mockery or teasing or flirting anymore. Maybe all three. Probably that one. Whatever it was, though, she liked it - but that didn’t mean she needed to  _ admit _ that she liked it.

She could just enjoy it silently.

“I always know when you are staring,” Widowmaker continued, slowly leaning in further, her voice growing softer as she did. She was pressed up against Sombra’s back, now - the hacker could feel the contact on her shoulderblades, on the back of her rib cage. A distinct lack of sensation down the ridge of metal cybernetics that ran up her spine.

“Yeah, well, I like looking at hot stuff,” Sombra muttered, trying in vain to search for the spices she needed. She’d picked up oregano three times in a row now. Not different jars; the same one repeatedly. “Sue me.”

“Foolish. That is not how I would extract my vengeance - were I to wish such a thing.” 

Did that mean she  _ didn’t _ wish it, though? Sombra could swear she felt something brush her neck - a nose? Lips? Just barely, just on the very edge of the hairs but making them stand straight upright in the wake of it.

“Well, obviously, yeah,” Sombra cleared her throat, taking a look at the jar she’d pulled over. It was oregano. Again. That was weird. “You’d just shoot them or whatever.”

Widowmaker laughed again, softer, closer, the sound dripping down Sombra’s spinal cord like honey and running along every nerve. “No, do not be foolish. I would not do that for  _ payback, _ simply for fun.”

Sombra’s ribs were being compressed now, just lightly; breathing was a little hard but she wasn’t breathing anyway so it didn’t really matter. “Wh- how do-”  _ why the fuck is this still oregano? _ Sombra swallowed heavily. The edge of the cupboard was pressing kind of painfully into her collarbones - when had that started happening? “How would you uh… get your payback then?”

The next laugh brought a rush of cold air down the side of her neck, which made Sombra’s eyes want to roll back into her head and her fingers tighten around the jar of herbs she was holding.

“Like this.”

Then, it was all over - the pressure on her back, on her front, the chills and the close presence, all gone. Sombra stumbled backward, unaware that she’d even been leaning back into Widowmaker to begin with, and she fell off of the stool with a yelp. She flung a jar of oregano across the room and had an instant to dread the pain and humiliation of hitting the floor.

She didn’t get it. What she got instead was the substantially lessened pain - and substantially  _ increased _ humiliation - of Widowmaker catching her.

A wide, teasing grin split those dark blue lips, gold eyes dancing with silent laughter; Sombra knew she’d been one-upped. The rug had been place so neatly under her and then yanked right out.

There was only one possible reaction.

Yank back  _ harder. _

Sombra started to chuckle, just for a second, and then pulled her head upward aiming toward Widowmaker’s mouth. The assassin’s eyes widened for just an instant and she dropped Sombra - but this time, Sombra was ready for it and caught herself on her good leg, one hand out against the cabinet.

As soon as she landed, though, Widowmaker’s hands were on her shoulders holding her upright as well. Sombra looked over with an easy grin. “Looking a little worried there,  _ Arañita.  _ Just saying, you’re not the only with eyes - I see  _ plenty _ too.”

She chuckled and stepped back up onto the stool, peering into the spice cabinet once more - and this time, there was no oregano to get in her way. Still, it was good to have established the dynamic: she’d gotten her question answered. “Mutually assured destruction,  _ amiga _ .”

Widowmaker let out a single laugh, remaining nearby instead of returning to her chair. “You wish.”

Still, she didn’t follow it up with anything else. No more wisecracks or little prods or setups.

“You ruined my oregano.”

“Yeah, well, oregano sucks,” Sombra muttered back. “All your spices suck,  _ chica -  _ seriously, what is this?”

A soft scoff leapt from Widowmaker’s nose. “Perhaps some day you will learn the joys of  _ subtlety.” _

Sombra flashed her a grin. “Yeah, and maybe you’ll learn how great something  _ spicy _ can be, huh?” She quirked an eyebrow. “No time like the present,  _ Arañita.” _

Gold eyes studied her intensely as Widowmaker shook her head just slightly. Sombra could tell there were questions back there, behind the facade, but she didn’t think they’d ever be asked.

_ Whatever, that’s fine. _ Sombra smirked as she pulled out a few selections from the cabinet.  _ I’ll just do all the work myself, then. _ “Just saying, it’s not as if you’ve gotta just choose  _ one. _ Spicy or subtle, teasing competition or date - you  _ can _ have the best of both worlds.”

A soft chuckle was the immediate response. “Of course I can. I know this - and I already  _ do. _ ”

Sombra’s smirk split into a grin. “Ah right, that’s why you dodged that kiss like a bullet. ‘Cause you’re totally in control of all of this.”

Widowmaker gasped lightly, pressing a hand to her chest as Sombra moved to the pan and laid down a few cuts of fish that she’d pulled from the fridge. “What? The implications! I only recoiled because it was  _ clearly _ an empty gesture. Not very  _ date-like _ of you. Entirely unromantic.”

“Not unromantic. Spicy!” Sombra protested. “Come on, you love my impulsiveness - plus, you’re totally wrong anyway. It was a  _ fully loaded _ gesture! All kinds of gratefulness in it, because you’d just so  _ helpfully _ caught me from falling.” She grinned over her shoulder to a smirking Widowmaker as she started to cut up some veggies.

“I detest your impulsiveness,” Widowmaker retorted idly, leaning back against the wall and failing to comment on any of the rest.

“Oh right, because without it you never would have had to invite me into your Fortress of Solitude.” Sombra snickered.

Widowmaker scoffed a laugh. “It is no  _ fortress. _ There are not even any battlements. Now what are you cooking, anyway? I will fetch wine.”

_ “Chica _ it’s literally in a lake. This make a moat look like a joke, come on, it’s a fortress.” Sombra glanced away from the pan with a teasing grin. “And hey, I thought it was supposed to be  _ my _ job to provide the whole date, huh? Actually we shoulda done this at my place.”

“Do you even know how to pair wine? Do you even know  _ wine?” _

“Pfft, what’s there to know?” Sombra shrugged. “Red, white, rosey.”

Widowmaker glared at her. “Firstly, it is  _ rosé. _ Secondly, I hate you. What are you cooking?”

“Geeze, it’s fish tacos, calm the fuck down,” Sombra muttered under her breath, smirking. Widowmaker nodded instead of replying, and turned to leave - and as she did, Sombra looked away from the pan.

She always  _ had _ had trouble peeling her eyes away from Widowmaker; the sniper commanded so much attention, the way she moved. Graceful and deliberate, clear and concise but fluid, and the silk robe only helped to accentuate that smoothness. Didn’t hurt that, underneath all the silkiness, was a spring-loaded razorblade coated in venom just waiting to lash out.

...and those  _ legs. _

Sombra burned her hand on the stove, but bit her lips to keep from making a noise about it. As soon as Widowmaker was gone, she moved to the sink and ran cold water over it - and briefly splashed a little on her face as well.

She felt just the tiniest bit like a yo-yo, and she didn’t really like that; she liked playing  _ games _ , but she didn’t like getting played  _ with. _ They were pretty distinct, but the easiest way to ensure that it was the former and not the latter was to play right back.

It usually worked perfectly right up until it ended in catastrophe.

Sombra mulled that over as she looked around idly - she was in Widowmaker’s house, in her kitchen, on what they were both calling a date but while clearly both only half-considering that to be the truth.

“Yep,” she muttered to herself. “Seems like a catastrophe waiting to happen to me.”

With a snicker, she tossed some of the sliced veggies into a pan with some spices. “Hey though,” she reassured herself, “at least it’ll be fun!”

There were a few minutes of silence as she cooked, occasionally humming snippets of songs to herself. It was an old recipe, on of her favourites - adapted for the frankly sad selection of spices, of course. Not that the selection wasn’t varied, it  _ was, _ it was just a hundred jars full of all the wrong things.

She heard glass clinking and glanced over her shoulder. Widowmaker was returning, with an impressive three bottles of wine held in one hand. The other held two glasses and a fourth bottle which was much smaller than the first three.

“Damn,  _ chica,” _ Sombra laughed, “you trying to get me drunk?”

Widowmaker shrugged with a slim smirk. “I thought it might make you less annoying.”

Sombra snickered, shifting a little. She was still favouring the uninjured ankle, obviously, and the one she’d hurt was still in pain - just  _ less _ pain than it had been. “Probably help with my ankle, anyway. Hit me up!”

She flipped the contents of one of the pans, holding out her other hand. A glass was pressed into it and Sombra pulled it to her lips, tipping the contents back and swallowing the huge mouthful. Widowmaker made a little noise.

“Wow,” Sombra murmured thoughtfully, looking down to the now-empty glass. “That’s really good stuff, actually!”

“That-” Widowmaker sounded shocked and Sombra glanced over - she  _ looked _ shocked too, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. “That was a ‘23 Vitreaux! You just-  _ gulped- _ ” she pursed her lips, exhaling heavily through her nose. “You are an animal.”

“What?” Sombra held her arms wide. “If it was special you should’ve let me know!”

Widowmaker rolled her eyes. “Oh, yes, because I always serve  _ poor quality _ wines to my guests unsuspecting. As  _ openers. _ Of  _ course _ it was special you-”

“Alright alright fine, before you insult me or whatever, I’m sorry.” Sombra shrugged. “Whatever, just pour me another glass and I’ll take my time with it.”

“There  _ isn’t _ another glass,” Widowmaker sighed, pinching at the bridge of her nose. “Save for mine, and after a display like that? I refuse to share.”

“Awwww c’mon! It was really,  _ really  _ good!”

“Yes.” Widowmaker nodded. “Yes, it was, and you wasted it. Live with the consequences of your impulsive actions.” Smirking faintly, she set her own glass off to the side. “Learn the joys of subtlety. If you are good, I will fetch another bottle later.” Her smirk grew to a devious grin then as something clearly occurred to her and her eyes latched with Sombra’s. “And if you are very,  _ very _ good?”

Sombra swallowed slowly, meeting that oddly heated gaze - maybe not heated, but excited. Whatever Widowmaker was considering, it was clearly something she thought would be fun, but she wasn’t  _ saying  _ it.

“...yeah?” Sombra prompted. “What then?”

Widowmaker let out a laugh. “I will let that be a surprise.  _ Bonne chance!” _ Grinning, she turned away to the other bottles of wine.

_ Or, maybe she just thought it would be fun to try to torment me a little. _ Sombra chuckled, shaking her head as she concentrated on the pans; fish and vegetables alike.  _ Kinda cute, actually, thinking she really could. _

Although, she  _ did _ want to press the point - but she didn’t. She  _ did _ , however, grab at her glass again as soon as it was offered, but paused with it halfway to her lips. “This isn’t some kind of trap, right? I can drink this?”

“It is not poisoned,” Widowmaker shrugged, waiting until Sombra drained her glass to speak again. “I think.”

“Yeah. very funny,” Sombra rolled her eyes. “You sound like Gabe, geeze. Been spending too much time together.”

“Nonsense.” Widowmaker shook her head and refilled the glass. “He would never poison you.” She grinned. “He might shoot you or stab you with his talons, possibly crush your head under his boot, but he would never poison you.”

“Reassuring,” Sombra muttered as she kept this next gulp to a healthy mouthful instead of the whole glass. She wasn’t feeling it yet but she knew she would soon. She was looking forward to it, actually - at least for her ankle. “Bah, he wouldn’t really, though.”

“Perhaps,” conceded Widowmaker. “Are you nearly done with the food? I am quite hungry.”

“Yeah, it’s basically done,” Sombra shrugged, shifting the pans off of the heat to simmer gently and bending to look in the oven. The tortillas were finished, too, and she pulled on an oven mitt in order to deal with the tray.

Her head swam a little as she stooped down to pick it up, and she shook her head slightly when she stood upright again. “Whoah,” she chuckled, “you sure there wasn’t anything in that wine?”

“You mean, the wine you gulped down like it was water?” Widowmaker raised an eyebrow high above a grin. “Perhaps, if you had waited, I would have been able to warn you about its high alcohol content.  _ Mais, _ you acted before thinking - how is your spicy lifestyle treating you now, hmm?”

Sombra frowned just slightly as she started to unite what she’d prepared into the final dish: little fish tacos, a dozen of them as per her word. “Hey, my lifestyle’s just great. And I  _ knew _ you were trying to get me drunk.” She grinned broadly to Widowmaker. “This is ‘cause you think I’m cute.”

The assassin let out a laugh. “Foolish girl - you wish.” She shrugged idly. “Perhaps, at times, I consider you amusing. Perhaps I thought that - inebriated - you would only be moreso.”

“And  _ also, _ ” Sombra nodded as she pushed a plate over toward Widowmaker, “you wanna kiss me.”

Widowmaker raised an eyebrow, picking up a taco but not biting into it yet. “Do you think so? Truly? Deep,  _ deep _ within yourself?”

Sombra grinned. “Hundred percent,  _ Arañita.  _ You wanna get me drunk so you can make your move and kiss me and everything - it’s cute, really. You’re all shy and stuff.” Her grin widened at the irritation written across Widowmaker’s expression. “Just like I said on the ship! If you just  _ asked _ , I’d say yes.”

Widowmaker’s lips pursed, shifting slowly, subtly, her eyes focused like any predator’s would be. “There really is no end to your idiocy, is there?”

Shrugging, Sombra snickered and stuffed a taco into her mouth. “Been right so far,  _ chica!” _ She hummed happily - it was good food, had turned out pretty well. She chewed and gulped down her first one voraciously and followed it immediately with another; it had been a long time since she’d eaten.

“We can simply disagree on that,” Widowmaker murmured with a smirk, taking a slow bite of her food. That didn’t last too long, though: her first bite was slow, chewed thoughtfully and seemingly savouring. Her second bite finished it off entirely and there was scarcely a pause before she grabbed up another taco.

Sombra took another mouthful of wine, chuckling gently. “See? Told you you’d like spicy.”

“Mm,” Widowmaker held up a finger, not speaking around her mouthful of food. She swallowed it down quickly and shook her head dismissively. “I am simply hungry. Do not read too much into it.” She picked up another and chomped it in half.

“Yeah yeah,” Sombra rolled her eyes. “You like my  _ food _ , you like my  _ jokes, _ you like my  _ impulsiveness, _ you like my  _ eyes -  _ I’ve been listening to you for a long time,  _ Arañita,  _ and the list just keeps getting longer and longer…”

Widowmaker glared at her, devouring another taco. “I  _ detest _ your impulsiveness, and most of your jokes are idiotic.”

Sombra’s grin widened. “Sure, but I was bang on with the cooking and the eyes. Besides, you don’t  _ really _ hate my impulsiveness - and I can prove it.”

_ “Can _ you, now?” Widowmaker purred and raised an eyebrow in challenge.

She did consider, for a moment. Sombra legitimately thought about it - because there was a fine line to be walked, pushing far enough for a joke but not too far. Not so far that you fell right off the tightrope if things didn’t connect correctly.

There was a little question that had been tickling the back of her mind for a while, now - sharper tonight than previously, but it had always been there. A question about her and the ice queen they called Widowmaker, because their toying with each other was hardly new. Their teasing was hardly new.

Tonight it had just come to a bit of a head.

...and, for a couple of seconds, Sombra  _ did _ legitimately consider what might happen if the joke were to go too far.

It didn’t take long for her to realize - whether it was the wine muddling her mind, or the night’s excitement spurring her on to take another risk, or just the slow accretion of confidence that time brought; whatever the reason, it only took a few seconds of consideration for Sombra to realize that she really didn’t care anymore if it was only a joke. 

She didn’t really care if she fell off of the tightrope.

Her cheeks were warm from the wine and her head swam a little from the same, her blood running a bit faster and hotter through her veins because of a heart that had been nudged on by alcohol - but not only that. As much as the wine, or probably a lot more, all of those effects could be traced quite solidly to those golden eyes locked tightly on hers.

Sombra’s smirk grew just a little.  _ Oh… oh yeah, I can prove it alright. _ Without another indication, she leapt forward at Widowmaker, caught a handful of hair, and-

...and ended up flipped around, bent back over a planted foot and far past the point of balance - remaining upright only because of a strong blue hand clutching at her jacket and another one behind her back. Her heart leapt in panic at first, and then in something else entirely as Widowmaker chuckled directly into her ear.

“You are a fool,” she whispered softly, “to think it is your  _ impulsiveness _ which drives us tonight.”

Sombra blurted out half a chuckle and opened her mouth to say something, but never got the chance.

Normally, she was pretty pissed when somebody stole one of her ideas -  _ particularly _ if it was a prank or a joke, and  _ especially _ particularly if they then leveled it back at  _ her. _ This, though, was a stark exception to the rule.

Sure, kissing Widowmaker had been  _ her _ plan all along, and that plan was now being ripped away by the cold mouth that pressed to hers, shifting to drop her jaw and part her lips - and sure, the plan had been stolen away now and turned right around, but as she  _ finally _ caught that handful of dark hair she’d been aiming for earlier and moaned, Sombra found that she really didn’t give a shit about that.

It was a damn good plan regardless.

A giggle bubbled out of her lips when Widowmaker withdrew, but Sombra kept a hand in her hair and didn’t let her get too far. “Hey, I’m just happy to be here,  _ chica! _ Who cares whose idea it was, right?”

“Mine,” Widowmaker asserted with her eyes narrowed.

Sombra’s grin only grew as she started to tug Widowmaker’s head back in again. “Okay  _ Arañita,  _ if that’s the way you want it I won’t ask again. It was all your idea - asking me out on the date, asking me for kisses, all of it!”

Widowmaker groaned into her mouth and slapped at her shoulder in frustration, but Sombra didn’t care, she just chuckled and slowly pulled herself back upright as their lips remained locked.  _ Yup, I was right. Fun catastrophe. Nice. _

As it turned out, though, Widowmaker must have been  _ very _ concerned about Sombra’s ankle. That would explain why, with a growl, she spun around and shoved Sombra back against the counter - to take the strain off of her injured joint, of course.

Whatever the reason, she clearly wasn’t a fan of Sombra regaining her footing

Sombra laughed openly, pulling Widowmaker’s mouth in toward her neck. It made her head swim all the more delightfully, as did the little flashes of blue skin as the robe fluttered with their movement. Her heart slammed against her ribs at the cold centred right over the veins in her neck, but it did nothing to chill her heated blood - quite the opposite, actually.

She pushed herself up on the counter’s edge, sliding backward a little to take a seat so she could lean forward and capture Widowmaker’s mouth with her own. “Knew it all along,  _ amiga,” _ she murmured with a heated gaze when they parted.

Widowmaker smirked, grabbing at the front of Sombra’s jacket and twisting, turning her and pushing her down to lay flat on her back on the counter - a plate was knocked off and joined the all-but-forgotten jar of oregano in shards on the floor, but neither of them seemed to care or even notice. “Is there  _ nothing _ I can do,” Widowmaker interrupted her own question by taking a moment to catch Sombra’s earlobe between her teeth, “to silence you?”

“Ohhh,” Sombra sighed with a huge smile on her lips. “Firstly, I can think of a few things. Secondly, I  _ hate _ being silent.” She tilted her head over and met Widowmaker’s eyes with a grin. “I’d much rather be loud.”

Widowmaker matched her grin completely, quirking an eyebrow and tracing a hand up the inside of Sombra’s leggings. “Oh?” She chuckled softly as Sombra’s eyes slid shut. “For once,  _ cherie _ , I believe we are in agreement…”

Sombra groaned as she pressed her head back into the stone countertop, arching her back up from it just a little. Her heart was pounding impossibly fast and her head was swimming.

Actually… it felt like she was just about to black out.

She caught a breath halfway, frowning a little as the thought struck her - just before a heavy shudder as Widowmaker’s hand inched with excruciating slowness toward its destination. It was so close now, but her head kept spinning and spinning; she could feel Widowmaker’s fingers tickling at her skin through the thin fabric - as if she were wearing nothing at all.

It still felt like she was about to lose consciousness, her thoughts swam muddily, but she was determined to hold on to her consciousness through sheer force of will.

The fingers drew closer, Sombra’s chest tightened, her breath faltered and she realized that her eyes were  _ open _ , but they still seemed to be closed because she couldn’t see a damn thing. Widowmaker was so close now though, her dark chuckle echoing in Sombra’s ears. 

_ No, fuck that - no way, I am NOT blacking out right before- _

 

\---

 

Sombra woke up suddenly, but not in a shocked way - her eyes slid open and she was awake all at once, but not with a start or a gasp.

Shortly, though, with a frown.

She couldn’t remember last night. Not all of it, at least, not right away.

The mission, she remembered. Going back to Widowmaker’s house afterward, chatting and making food, eating… 

A grin grew on her lips as she remembered the kisses, but right about there things started to get fuzzy. She remembered jokes. Remembered Widowmaker shoving her back against a counter, which probably explained the pain in the small of her back, and then just… flashes. They could have been memories. They could have been dreams.

Wouldn’t be the first time she’d dreamt about it,  _ that _ much was definitely true. She definitely  _ hoped _ they were memories, but either way, it sucked that they were only flashes.

Then, though, she heard a noise - a little soft one - and felt something move against her belly. A hand, not warm but not exactly cold either.

Slowly, Sombra turned over and looked, desperately holding back the desire to laugh triumphantly. There was Widowmaker, hair all kinds of messy yet still looking gorgeous, laying on her side. It was a huge bed, four-poster with silk sheets that felt  _ excellent _ on her skin.

Her grin grew to almost uncontainable levels at that realization. It felt  _ fabulous _ against her skin - against  _ all _ of her skin, with not a scrap of clothing to get in the way.

Sombra granted herself one small chuckle for her triumphs.

“Do not be so pleased with yourself,” Widowmaker murmured softly, her eyes slowly opening. The gold practically glowed in the morning sunlight. “This was all  _ my _ doing, you will recall.”

“I recall nothing,” Sombra responded smugly, shuffling around under the covers to wrap her arms around Widowmaker’s neck. “Now, how about we-”

Somewhere else in the room, there was a buzzing noise. Widowmaker’s head flew from the pillow with a frown - and Sombra was happy for that, because it let the sheet slip down her torso, and  _ that _ meant that Sombra had plenty to look at.

“It’s probably just my phone.” Sombra chuckled, “But, y’know, if you wanna get up and go check, I won’t complain.”

Widowmaker rolled her eyes and laid back down, shaking her head with a sigh and looking up at the ceiling. “You will be even more annoying now, won’t you?”

“You bet!” Sombra slid in closer, slipping an arm behind Widow’s back and sucking at her neck. With a contented sigh, the assassin tilted her head away to grant easier access.

“The consequences of impulsive actions,” Widowmaker muttered, dragging her fingernails none-too-softly down Sombra’s ribs. “Will your phone message be important?”

“Shut up I’m busy,” Sombra muttered against her skin, but soon reconsidered when a handful of her hair was grabbed and she was pulled away by it. “Ah ah ah ah on second thought I think I’ll check my phone.”

The hacker rolled over onto her back and waved a hand, swiping through a few screens. She didn’t need to actually  _ get up _ in order to check her phone; she could easily do it from here.

“Looks like it’s just a text,” Sombra shrugged, responding automatically before she realized who the message was actually  _ from. _

It was the girl from the alley, the night before - the leggy one, with the legs, and Sombra grinned as she read it.

_ “I accept your offer of a date. I detest crowds, so I will prepare a meal in private.” _ Then there was an address and a time, later that night.

“Gabriel?”

Widowmaker’s voice shook Sombra from her thoughts and recollections. She dashed the screen into scattering pixels and flipped over onto her side with a grin. “Nah, just a personal thing - no big deal or anything. Why, you jealous already?” She snickered. “I mean, c’mon  _ Arañita,  _ at this point we’re only a one-night stand. Can’t go getting all possessive.”

“Oh, can’t I?” Widowmaker raised an eyebrow, running fingers through Sombra’s hair. As they worked their way back they suddenly tightened, pulling her head that way and exposing her neck - which was immediately followed up by Widowmaker setting her mouth to the newly-exposed skin. “I believe I have proved there is little I cannot do.”

Sombra groaned a chuckle, wriggling a little as Widowmaker nipped at her collarbone. “I’m just  _ saying _ if you want to get possessive  _ right, _ we should make this official. Get me a ring or something - or at least a gun!”

“Official?” Widowmaker giggled softly through her nose, working kisses up Sombra’s neck until her lips were poised right at the hacker’s earlobe. Her words were so soft, so warm, so delighted and gentle when she spoke. “Sombra, if you even  _ imply _ to  _ anybody _ else that this is happening, I will  _ slit _ your  _ throat _ and bathe in your  _ hot _ blood.”

The way she emphasized the words, the ‘t’ popped off of her tongue and right into Sombra’s gut, chasing electrically down her spine. The hacker wriggled against the mattress a little, fingertips trailing thoughtlessly over Widowmaker’s chilled form. “Completely unfair how hot it is when you talk about murdering me,  _ Arañita. _ ”

Widowmaker’s fingernails dragged across her ribs as the assassin laughed softly. “Oh, I disagree. I think it is very fair indeed…”

Then, she devoted her mouth once again to Sombra’s skin, and Sombra didn’t mind that in the slightest - in fact, she was very much in favour of the plan and voiced her agreement wholeheartedly.

One thing was certain, too:  _ this _ time, she wasn’t going to pass out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter! Yay! I'm letting this one be pretty free-flowing and just for fun, so uh... yeah, I hope you folks are all liking it too. Still counts as a birthday present for DrDre! (pretty much) I think it's gonna go some good places.
> 
> Also I mean, who *wouldn't* get turned on by Widowmaker whispering sweet violent nothings in their ear, right? Just sayin'
> 
> Next time: Sombra goes on a date with Symmetra! It will obviously go far better. Right?

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter one down! It, uh, was just gonna be a little thing, but then I got overexcited. It happens XD
> 
> Hope you liked it, folks! I love 'em all, honestly - they're all fun and great and I'm going to have fun with them here. I really enjoyed this and wrote it in about uh... an hour or two XD
> 
> C'mon back next time (which'll be up, uh, some time) and see Widowmaker and Sombra's date! It'll obviously go well. Totally. Definitely. Hundred percent.


End file.
